


A Wonderful Prize

by molossiamerica (afjakwrites)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is a prince, Cardverse, M/M, Royalty AU, a competition for alfred's hand lmao, arthur is a servant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afjakwrites/pseuds/molossiamerica
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, a castle servant, enters the Spades Tournament in order to compete for the Crown Prince of Spades, Alfred.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> previously posted to my writing blog @afjakwrites on tumblr

“Alright, everyone!” Came the loud voice of the announcer throughout the crowd. Every head turned, all conversation stalling. “Day one of the tournament begins in fifteen minutes! Everyone line up in order and be ready to present your gift to his highness the Crown Prince Alfred of Spades!” Said the woman before turning on her heel and marching out of the competitor’s tent.

Immediately, all of those inside scrambled to find their position in line. Arthur merely sighed; being that he had been the last person to sign up for the tournament, he was the last in line. He walked calmly to the edge of the tent, watching as all of the competitors in front of him scrambled to get in position based on the number they’d been given with amusement. Most of those in line were carrying extravagant gifts for the Prince, the majority covered in jewels or gold and quite large in comparison to Arthur’s simple gift, which he held tightly in order to ensure the safety of.

“Alright, first up! State your name and title to me and I will announce you, then wait until his highness nods to come forward and present him with your gift. Remember: NO live animals may be given as gifts!” As the announcer said it, a kitten mewled from somewhere within the line and a man let out a cry of frustration before stomping out of the tent. The announcer rolled her eyes and motioned for the first competitor to come forward.

Arthur waited with boredom as the line of suitors slowly diminished, fiddling with whatever was around as he waited for his turn. Finally, after almost forty-five minutes of waiting, it was Arthur’s turn to be announced. The announcer looked bored and somewhat annoyed as she took Arthur’s name. When prompted for his title, the Brit merely shook his head. She looked from his face down to the gift he held in his hands and then back up to him, now with pity in her eyes. She announced Arthur and the Brit ducked through the tent.

At the sight of Alfred, Arthur’s heart stalled. The young prince looked absolutely radiant. He was dressed from head to toe in the finest clothes Spades had to offer; everything navy blue and accented with gold, topped off with an extravagant and shining crown placed upon his gorgeous golden hair. A knee-weakening smile came to his face as he motioned Arthur forward.

Suddenly nervous, Arthur approached the Prince and took a knee, holding his gift out for the man. It was a dozen red roses, immaculate and beautiful, their stems together with a golden bow.

“Your highness,” said Arthur in a shaky voice, “I selected these for you because I have seen you admire the roses in the palace garden often.” Arthur said, bowing his head.

The roses were lifted from his hands and Arthur raised his head to find Alfred smiling as he pressed his nose into the flowers, his eyes closed as he appreciated the scent. The Brit went pink in the face, finding the sight completely heart-melting.

After a moment, Alfred’s captivating blue eyes fluttered open and fixed on the man kneeling before him. His eyes were sparkling with interest and pleasure, clearly happy with the gift he’d received and intrigued by the man who had given them to him. He laid the roses gently in his lap and gazed at Arthur with a sweet smile upon his face.

“You work in the castle,” said Alfred.

Surprised that the Prince recognized him, Arthur floundered momentarily. Then, face reddened, “y-yes, your highness.”

“You’re a gardener, aren’t you? Arthur, right?” Asked Alfred with a cheerful smile.

Alfred tried not to display his surprise at being remembered by Alfred. “Y-yes, that’s correct, your highness.”

“Why have you entered the tournament, Arthur?” Questioned Alfred with interest.

Again, Arthur found himself astonished. Alfred had hardly spoken to any of the other competitors outside of two lines; “thank you” and “good luck”. To have Alfred deviate from this in order to ask Arthur special questions flustered the gardener, and he found himself unable to speak as smoothly as he’d practiced.

“I-I simply want you to be free, your highness.” Answered Arthur, not speaking of what had prompted him to join the competition.

A week prior, only hours before sign-ups for the tournament closed, Arthur had been tending to the garden when he’d heard sniffling. Upon investigation, he’d noticed Alfred sitting beside his elder brother with his head in his hands, crying. Not wanting to intrude but far too curious to walk away, Arthur had hidden behind a particularly thick and tall bush to listen.

“What am I gonna do, Mattie?” Alfred had said. “All of these people want to marry me, and I don’t want any of them. I-I’m not ready to get married yet! And I w-wanna be married for love!”

Matthew laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder, frowning sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Al. I’m sure someone great’ll win the tournament and everything will work out. Maybe they won’t even request to marry you.” He suggested optimistically.

“You know that won’t happen!” Cried Alfred in response. “I-I just wish I could have the freedom to make my own choice. Being the Crown Prince sucks.”

“Al…” Matthew murmured gently.

Alfred shook his head. “You wouldn’t get it. You married the King of Diamonds and got out of it. I don’t blame you, I just wish I could marry someone I love too…” Alfred mumbled around tears.

Hearing Alfred so anguished, and having admired the Prince for several years, Arthur had decided then and there that he would win the tournament for Alfred’s sake. Although all the other competitors were there for Alfred’s hand, really the winning prize was one request granted to the winner by the current King of Spades, Alfred’s father. Traditionally, the request had always been to marry the King’s heir, usually the one set to ascend the throne. Arthur, however, planned to request that Alfred be given another two years to select and court any suitor of his choosing.

Thus, Arthur had rushed to town and sighed up for the tournament only minutes before sign-ups had closed, determined to win for Alfred’s sake.

Now, the Prince was gazing at Arthur with wonder. “My freedom…?” He echoed in wide-eyed astonishment. “What do you mean?”

Arthur built the courage to look into Alfred’s eyes and spoke. “I mean that you are far too wonderful to be reduced to a prize.”

Alfred blinked, seeming completely shocked by Arthur’s response. After a second or two of simply staring at his servant, Alfred’s handsome face was split by a wide grin. His brilliant smile practically blinded Arthur with its radiance, the expression so infectious that Arthur grinned back at him, face burning.

“Well, Arthur, good luck to you and thank you for the roses. I will be rooting for you.” Promised the Prince with a flirtatious wink.

Arthur’s heart flipped. He stuttered out an incomprehensible farewell, bowed to Alfred, and scurried out of his tent red with embarrassment.

* * *

The next day, the actual competition began. Being that eighty-two suitors had come to compete for Alfred’s hand, the first three challenges were based solely on the success of the suitor. If they managed to complete the task, they could move on—if not, they were immediately disqualified. After the third round, there were only around fifteen suitors left, at which point the point system began wherein up to ten points per challenge would be awarded based on the suitor’s performance. At the end of the competition—which lasted an additional four rounds—the points of each suitor would be added and the one with the most points would be the winner.

The first challenge was a simple one—a conversation with the Prince. Over the course of several hours, each suitor would speak to the Prince for five minutes. Neither those who followed the competition nor the competitors knew what would be deemed success or failure, and every competitor seemed somewhat anxious, including Arthur.

Wanting to relax a bit before he was set to speak to the Prince, Arthur trekked down to a small, secluded stream that ran along the outer edge of the palace garden and into the forest which surrounded it. It was a site which very few knew about, and Arthur was pleased to find that no one was around when he arrived. The Brit seated himself upon the soft grass and leaned against a tree behind him. He felt soothed by the softness of the natural world, his nervousness declining.

“…Arthur?”

Arthur jolted, whipping around. His heart rate immediately skyrocketed, noting Prince Alfred himself standing a few feet away wearing a confused smile.

“Ah—” Arthur immediately twisted around took a knee, bowing his head. “Your highness, I-I—It’s nice to see you.”

Alfred seemed somewhat amused by the Brit’s nervousness. “You too,” he said, stepping closer. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Arthur rose to his feet and tentatively met Prince Alfred’s knee-weakening blue eyes. “Well, I’m the last one to go, and I’m not scheduled to go for quite a while, so I figured I’d calm my nerves a bit beforehand… If I may ask, what brings you here? I thought you would be with a suitor.”

“Well, I probably should be, but I was getting a little bored. I needed a break. As much as I like talking to people, the constant flirting gets old.” With that said, the Prince shrugged off his cape—an item Arthur had never seen Alfred wear outside of extremely formal occurrences or special events—and let it fall to the grass.

“I’m sure it does,” Arthur said, nodding sympathetically. “I’m sorry to add to it.”

Alfred shook his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that! You being last gives me something to look forward to! If more of these suitors were like you, I probably wouldn’t mind this so much.”

Arthur’s green eyes widened to the size of saucers, astonished by the Prince’s kind words. Against his will his pale face turned red and he found himself looking to the grass beneath his feet, far too embarrassed to maintain eye contact with the handsome Prince. “I—W-Well, thank you, your highness, though I’m unsure of what I could have possibly done to deserve such praise from you.”

At that, Alfred seemed somewhat offended. “Don’t put yourself down like that!” He scolded. “You’re one of the only people who seems sincere out of the whole group. And you gave me the most thoughtful gift out of everyone yesterday. Everyone else just gave me gifts meant to flaunt their wealth and status. They all think they can buy my affection, like I’m so shallow that all I want out of a marriage is money.” Alfred said, his distaste for the entire process made evident by his words.

“Well, for starters, I _am_  completely sincere in my efforts,” said Arthur in response to Alfred’s earlier words. “Secondly, I understand why this must be terrible for you. Not only is their logic rather flawed—I mean, you’re the Prince of Spades, after all. You have more than enough money to buy anything and everything they’ve brought you. But even further, it must hurt to think there’s a chance you’ll be sold off to someone who cares for little other than status. Most of these competitors see you as a prize. They have no respect for who you are or what you’ve done and will continue to do for Spades.

I’ve worked here since you were barely fifteen, and even then you were always trying your hardest to improve Spades in whatever you can. I remember the unveiling of your first project—the starter houses for Spades citizens in poverty. It was amazing. And you were only fifteen and a half at the time! You have always utilized your wealth to improve in Spades. I can only hope that at least half of your suitors understand the good that lies within you. It would be a shame for you to marry someone who couldn’t understand how dedicated and passionate you are about improving the lives of your people.”

When Arthur stopped, Alfred was staring at him in wide-eyed shock, his gorgeous mouth agape and his suntanned cheeks red. Noting the Prince’s surprise, Arthur blushed and bowed his head again, embarrassed by what he’d said.

“I apologize, your highness, I didn’t mean to ramble on or embarrass you,” said Arthur bashfully.

Alfred reached out, taking Arthur’s hand in his. Much to the Brit’s shock, Alfred pulled his hand toward his chest and held it between both of his. Alfred’s eyes were still wide, and he was gazing at Arthur as if he were seeing something truly extraordinary.

“That was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” said Alfred softly, as if his breath had been stolen away.

Arthur’s eyes were equally wide and he flushed. “O-Oh, I’m sure there has been much better things. Surely every suitor you’ve spoken to has said nicer things than—”

A horn suddenly sounded and Alfred jerked away from Arthur, blinking. “Shit,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s Yao telling me my break’s up. I have to go.” Alfred rushed toward his cape, hurriedly pulling it over his shoulders. He began to turn away and then halted, looking over his shoulder at Arthur. “I can’t wait for your turn, Arthur! Good luck!” Exclaimed the Prince before he hurried off.

Arthur merely brought the hand Alfred had held to lay over his heart and watched him leave with a dopey smile.

* * *

 

“Alright! Kirkland?” Called the announcer, walking into the competitor’s tent.

Arthur stood. “Present.”

“You’re up.” The announcer jerked their head toward the exit and Arthur followed her out.

They walked to a tent not far off. It was clearly Alfred’s temporary set up for the day, if the navy blue coloring and golden accents which adorned the tent were any indication of the royalty within.

“Wait here. A suitor will exit, and then his highness Prince Alfred will let you in. Do you have a gift ready?”

Arthur blinked, surprised. “A gift?” He echoed, shocked.

The announcer rolled her eyes. “His majesty the king stated that he expected each suitor to present his son, his highness Prince Alfred, with a gift which showcases an interest of theirs. Didn’t you read your copy of the rule book?” She asked.

Arthur flushed, embarrassed and frustrated with himself. “I—N-No, but I will make sure to after this. Please, what are the requirements for the gift?”

She sighed. “I’m not supposed to give you any advice, but… First of all, Prince Alfred can only send twenty-five suitors home per day in the first three rounds, but he told me he’d have disqualified over half by now. No suitor received above a ‘good’ rating for him aside from one: Prince Ivan of Clubs, who received a 'perfect’.”

Arthur blinked, surprised. If he recalled, there were two ratings in between 'good’ and 'perfect’. For Alfred to rate every other suitor that much lower than Prince Ivan must mean that Alfred was actually impressed by Prince Ivan. The mere thought of someone else managing to woo Prince Alfred caused jealousy to flare up within Arthur, and he looked intently to the announcer. “What did Prince Ivan get him?” He questioned urgently.

“A scarf which he made himself, which had a sunflower pattern on it.” The announcer answered.

Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand. Haven’t suitors given him jewels or valuables? What use does he have for a handmade scarf?”

The woman shrugged. “His highness received plenty of extremely expensive gifts today, but to him it’s not about usefulness. It’s about the meaning of the gift the effort put forth. According to his highness, it was clear that Ivan had showed him a very personal piece of himself. In fact, Alfred allowed their conversation to carry on for an additional three minutes past the time limit.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. He’d expected there to be competition for Alfred, yes—but the thought of someone managing to sincerely romance Alfred made his blood boil. He nodded at the announcer and thanked her extensively, grateful for her help. She patted him on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile and walked off, leaving Arthur to wait.

Not a moment later, a suitor exited Alfred’s tent, followed by the Prince himself.

“Arthur!” Alfred exclaimed happily. “God, am I glad to see you! C'mon in,” the Prince said, beckoning Arthur in and holding the makeshift cloth doorway aloft for the Brit to enter.

Arthur ducked under Alfred’s arm, trying not to let his nervousness show as he desperately racked his brain for anything he could gift Alfred with.

“So, I hope you’re feeling a little more relaxed now,” Alfred said as he moved toward a table placed in the center of the luxuriously outfitted tent. He sat down on one side and invited Arthur to sit down across from him.

“Yes, your highness, thank you,” Arthur lied.

“Good. Anything to drink? Red wine, white wine, water…” Alfred asked.

“No, thank you, your highness. How has your day been?” Questioned Arthur in return.

“Well, I’ve spent almost seven hours talking to suitors, but it wasn’t so bad. There were a few that actually did a pretty good job,” Alfred said with a wry smile.

“Oh? What gifts were you pleased with?”

“Well, I’d say there were about fifteen people who gave me really cool gifts. One suitor gave me a painting she did of the land outside her bedroom window and she explained in great detail why it was important. My favorite gift so far was a scarf one of them made for me. It was pretty, and had a lot of significance to him.”

“That sounds lovely,” Arthur said, and resisted the urge to squirm as he continued to agonize over his lack of a gift for Alfred.

“Yeah, it was pretty thoughtful. So…”

From there, conversation flowed easily between the two. By the time time was called, Alfred was practically keeled over with laughter, Arthur in a similar state. The pair both looked up at the sound of Yao’s horn and Alfred shook his head at his adviser.

“We’re almost done! Arthur just has to present his gift to me and then I’ll be done, I swear,” said Alfred with a sheepish smile.

Yao merely sighed, rolling his eyes at the young Prince. Arthur expected Alfred to be put off by his adviser's rudeness, but Alfred only laughed as Yao exited the tent.

“Alright, I’m sorry to cut this short but he’s been crabby ever since he had to drag a really clingy guy out of here by the ear a little bit ago,” said the Prince with a chuckle. “So, if you would please present me with whatever you brought for me and explain it a little.”

“W-Well, I…” Arthur floundered. “What I’ve brought for you… Is… Something that can’t be touched. I…” Arthur gazed at Alfred’s wonderful face and, suddenly, an idea came to him. “What I’ve brought for you is poetry. Now, I must tell you before we begin that I did not write this poem: it is merely a favorite of mine. It’s significant and personal to me because it was the poem that inspired my love of writing. He’s not my favorite poet—that title is reserved for Shakespeare—but I admire his works and am extremely grateful to him for the passion he introduced into my life. By reading his poetry, I understood what it meant to convey extreme and intense emotion through written words. Since then, I have harbored a deep love for writing, and hope to make a career out of it someday. With that said, I present to you my gift: _Sky-Circles_ , by Rumi.”

With that, Arthur recited the poem. Alfred listened raptly, giving the Brit his full attention. When Arthur finished, Alfred beamed at him; a sincere, affectionate smile that made Arthur’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I’ve never cared for poetry all that much, but that was beautiful. Thank you, Arthur. I can’t wait to see you for Round Two tomorrow.” Said the Prince with a smile.

Arthur left Alfred’s tent with a spring in his step.


	2. Chapter 2

Round Two proceeded smoothly, with the challenge being fairly easy for Arthur. It was a simple twenty-question quiz given to each suitor by Prince Alfred, who read the questions aloud to them and determined whether or not their responses were correct. The questions all had to do with Spadian history and culture, making them easy for Arthur, who was an avid lover of history. He answered the questions easily and missed only one. After the quiz was over, Alfred ‘scored’ them based on the number of questions correct, and the twenty-five lowest scoring suitors were removed from the competition.

After his easy success in Round Two, Arthur had been confident in his ability to pass Round Three just as easily. Though the rule book simply described it as a 'surprise challenge’, he was sure he would be alright. However, he soon realized that the challenge was, in fact, an actual challenge. The task, designed by Alfred’s father in order to ensure that his son married someone who could provide domestic necessities for him, consisted of cooking a meal entirely from scratch for the Prince. It would be judged by both and Alfred and the head chef of the palace, Francis Bonnefoy, who would rate it based upon it’s taste, nutrition value, and presentation.

Arthur had done horribly. So horribly, in fact, that when Alfred had come to check on him at the halfway point, his nose had crinkled at the smell of burnt food and his jaw had dropped.

“Dude, holy shit. That doesn’t even look edible,” he’d said to Arthur.

“I-I’m not a good cook, git!” Arthur had snapped. Then, upon realizing who he was talking to, he’d slapped a hand over his mouth and began to issue muffled apologies to the Prince.

Alfred had seemed amused by Arthur’s attitude and shrugged out of his cape. “Don’t worry, I can fix this,” he said around laughter as he set to work cooking. “Just watch me.”

“But I thought you couldn’t help anyone?” Arthur asked, blinking in surprise.

Alfred glanced to him, suddenly serious. “I know, I know, this is cheating. But this competition is going to determine something that’ll affect my entire life, so I don’t care. I’m rooting for you, Arthur!” Alfred had replied with a grin.

There was something in his eyes—an odd, heartbreaking mixture of sadness and hope that renewed Arthur’s determination to win. With all of the casual flirting and fun he’d been having over the past few days while wooing the Prince, Arthur had forgotten that this competition would determine the future Queen of Spades, Alfred’s new partner in life. Arthur recalled Alfred crying in the gardens beside Matthew and frowned. No matter how bright a smile the Prince put on, Arthur knew it was a mask—the competition was a source of great anguish for the Prince.

Alfred cooked quickly, completing the meal in under the allotted time. He dished out the salmon filet, asparagus, and mashed potatoes expertly upon a plate, drizzling sauce over the top afterward. Arthur marveled at the Prince’s cooking skills, somewhat surprised. Alfred placed the plate atop the tray each contestant had and covered it, then grinned at Arthur.

“I have to go clean up before I start judging, but I’ll see you later. Good luck!” Said Alfred as he left.

After Round Three (which Arthur passed with flying colors), the remaining competitors were given two 'rest days’ before the competition began again. A rumor spread throughout the camp that Prince Alfred had gone to a pub not far away, resulting in the majority of the suitor’s section of the camp being completely deserted for the evening. However, Arthur had thought it better not to bother the Prince, who had probably only gone to relax a bit. He was probably being bombarded by suitors anyway—he wouldn’t have a moment to spare for Arthur.

Thus, the Brit was laying in his hammock reading idly when there was a knock upon one of the wooden posts supporting his tent. He sat up, surprised.

“Yes?” He called.

Alfred poked his head into the tent and grinned. “Arthur!” He exclaimed cheerfully. Then, he ducked out and Arthur heard him holler, “Hey, Yao, I got one! Mark down Arthur Kirkland!”

The elder man leapt out of his hammock and toward the entrance just as Alfred reappeared. “Hey, Arthur. This was Round Four. Good job! You get a ten.” He said, motioning for the Brit to follow him before disappearing again.

Arthur walked out of his tent and blinked. “What?” He asked, confused. “I thought you were—?”

“The pub thing was a test. Well, it was Round Four, actually. I came up with this one. I’m a little disappointed, though—I didn’t think this many people would fail. It was just a simple test of privacy and respect, y'know, to see who all would come bombarding me with flirting and stuff. Looks like most people took the bait.” Alfred explained.

“I see,” Arthur said, surprised. “So, how many others have stayed?”

“Just two excluding you. You were the last tent I had to check, so… Only the three of you get all ten points.”

“Did Ivan Braginsky stay?” Arthur asked.

Alfred nodded. “Yeah, he stayed. Why? Something wrong?”

Arthur shook his head as Alfred lead him toward an area of the camp that was blocked off by royal guards standing in a line. “He’s with me,” Alfred said simply, and the guards allowed he and Arthur to pass.

“No, it’s only—” Arthur cut himself off for a moment, embarrassed. He wrung his hands in front of him, unsure of how to say what he wanted, or whether it was wise to. “I’ve heard you’re fond of him, that’s all. Rumors have been going around that you want him to win.”

Alfred lead Arthur into his tent. The Brit hesitated a moment, flushing, but when Alfred motioned him in he stepped inside. It was a spacious and luxurious tent which looked as though it had come straight out of one of Arthur’s favorite fantasy novels. Everything in the tent was surely the finest Spades had to offer, from the bed to the curtains to the array of food laid out on a table positioned at the side of the tent.

“Well, that’s stupid of them. I do like Ivan, yeah. He’s a good guy, and he seems way more considerate than most of the people in this competition. But I want you to win.” Said Alfred, blue eyes gazing into Arthur’s green with an intensity that made Arthur shudder.

“Y-You… You realize you’re telling me you’d like to marry me,” said Arthur in a shaky, weak voice.

Alfred nodded. “Of course. Arthur, you’re the best option out of the whole group. More than that, though—you’re the best option I’ve ever had. I actually like spending time with you, getting to know you better. I like seeing all the different sides of your personality, especially when you stop treating me like royalty and show me your mean side a little. You’re interesting, you’re funny, and… You’re one of the only people in my life who doesn’t treat me like an object or a prize. Out of everyone who entered this competition, you’re the only one who I’d be willing to bet would always have my best interest at heart. So, yes, I’d like to marry you.”

Arthur could hardly speak after Alfred’s sweet words. He hadn’t the slightest clue of what to say after such romantic words from the man he’d long served and adored. He was absolutely enamored with Alfred, his heart soaring, but… It wasn’t right. Alfred was only being so kind because Arthur was the best option he had. Arthur knew that what the Prince truly wanted was the freedom to wait as long as he pleased to marry any partner of his choosing. Arthur also knew he could grant the Prince that.

The servant reached forward, taking his Prince’s hand and raising it to his lips. He bowed his head and kissed Alfred’s hand tenderly, heart aching. He released the younger and looked up, taking a deep breath in.

“I can request something else,” Arthur said somewhat breathlessly.

Alfred blinked. “What?”

“The rules of the competition state that I can request anything from the King as long as it is lawful. It doesn’t have to be your hand in marriage. If you’d prefer that I ask for something else, I will. I could ask for you to have time to pick your fiancee, or that you take a long trip, or—”

“I don’t understand.” The Prince interrupted.

Arthur paused. “What?”

“You don’t want to marry me?” Alfred asked.

“It’s not that, Alfred. I just want you to have the freedom to marry whoever you choose. If you’re not in love with me, you shouldn’t be forced to marry me. If you ask me not to, I won’t ask for your hand. I want you to be happy more than I want money or power.”

Alfred was staring at Arthur with a mix of emotions the Brit couldn’t place, gaping. Arthur smiled sadly, seeing the Prince’s lack of a response as an affirmation of the Brit’s words. Knowing that Alfred didn’t want to marry him, Arthur stepped forward, pushing himself onto his tiptoes in order to kiss Alfred’s cheek softly. Afterward, he exited the tent, head hung low.

* * *

After the challenges ended, Arthur waited anxiously in his tent for night to fall. Early the next day, the winner would be announced and presented to The King and Prince Alfred, at which point they would make their request. Although Arthur hoped that he had won, he couldn’t be sure. The last two rounds were judged by the King, not Alfred—meaning that any mistakes he’d made wouldn’t be forgiven. He had the upper hand of the ten points from Round Four, but two others had earned those points as well. The official scores of the competitors wouldn’t be known until tomorrow, and Arthur was unbelievably anxious. He was desperate to hear from Alfred, and the lack of contact between them drove him mad.

He was half ready to make his way to Alfred’s tent and talk to the Prince himself when Alfred’s adviser, Yao, entered the tent and called for him. After Arthur had followed him out of the tent and toward a more secluded area, Yao had sighed and reached into his pocket, extracting a note from it which he then handed to Arthur.

“This is from Prince Alfred. He asked me to tell you that he hasn’t been able to come visit you in person because the King is around and keeps a close eye on him.” Said Yao.

“H-How is he?” He asked worriedly.

Yao looked into Arthur’s eyes and sighed. “I wish I could say well, but… His father is keeping the scores hidden from him. He wants it to be a surprise to everyone, including Alfred. Only the King knows who won. But Alfred has been singing your praises ever since the competition started. I wish you the best of luck, Arthur. We hope you win.”

With that and a gentle pat on Arthur’s shoulder, Yao left. Arthur opened the note hurriedly, biting his lip.

_Arthur—_

_To begin, I hope you win tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can to try and get my father to pick you. I’m not sure who he will select as a winner, but if he picks you, you should know that my greatest happiness would come from you asking for whatever you want tomorrow. All I want is for your request to be completely sincere. I want it to be whatever you want most in the world. No matter what you request, I promise that I will be happy._

_All my love,_

_Alfred._

Arthur’s heart jolted. He could hardly believe his eyes. “ _All my love”_? Was the Prince trying to send him into cardiac arrest? The simple ending made Arthur’s heart beat so fast, he was sure he’d faint. He walked back to his tent unable to contain a lovestruck smile, red in the face.

Arthur’s determination had been renewed. He knew what he had to do, and he waited even more anxiously than before for tomorrow to come.

* * *

The competitors lined up at six on the dot, all with anxious expressions set upon their face. Arthur stood at the end of the line, his pale hands clasped together in front of him and rocking on his heels, beyond nervous. He was hoping against hope that he’d be the winner, but every other suitor in line had the clear advantage over Arthur in terms of status and wealth, and the Brit was well aware that the King wanted a suitor who would spoil his son rotten despite the Prince’s inheritance being more than enough.

The suitors were standing in a clearing about ten feet from an area enclosed by thick navy blue curtain, where the Prince and King would be seated. Around them, a large crowd of people who had been following the competition had amassed and were waiting eagerly for the King and his son to be announced. Several minutes passed in tense silence before the horns sounded and the announcer drew the attention of the crowd in order to announce the King and Prince. The curtain was pulled back, revealing two ornate, throne-like chairs upon which the King and Prince were seated.

Alfred looked absolutely stunning as per usual, dressed from head to toe in his finest clothes yet. A large crown, bigger than the one he’d worn the previous days, was perched upon his gorgeous golden hair and covered in sparkling blue jewels. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the American, draped in fine cloth and covered in golden accents that perfectly accentuated every curve of his body.

“To begin, we will announce the competitors in fifth, sixth, and seventh place!” Exclaimed the announcer loudly before looking down at their paper. “In fifth, we have: Gilbert Beilshmidt! In sixth: Antonio Carriedo! And in last place: Francis Bonnefoy!”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped in slight relief. He looked to Alfred, who seemed equally relieved that he wouldn’t have to marry any of the three men. However, anxiety quickly set in again: there were still four places left, and there was no way to know where Arthur had placed.

The announcer began again. “Now for fourth: Natalya Arlovskaya! Third place goes to… Kiku Honda!”

Loud cheering erupted among the crowd as Natalya and Kiku stepped back, leaving only Ivan and Arthur still standing. Most of the crowd was calling Ivan’s name—he’d been a fan favorite from the beginning. Arthur looked to Alfred, only to find the Prince staring intently at him. Worry drowned out every other emotion in the deep blue eyes Arthur so adored, causing the Brit’s heart rate to spike. Alfred being nervous only increased his own nervousness, and he shifted from foot to foot as he waited anxiously for the announcer to speak.

“And now, for our two finalists, Duke Ivan Braginsky and Arthur Kirkland! This year’s tournament exhibited the closest win in all of Spades history, with our winner having only one point more than the other!” Called the announcer.

Arthur sucked in a breath and held it. Beside him, Ivan Braginsky was the picture of serenity, seeming perfectly calm.

“And the winner of the Spades Tournament is… Arthur Kirkland!”

To the Brit’s surprise, Alfred leapt out of his chair and began cheering loudly. Following the Prince’s lead, the majority of the crowd burst into uproarious applause. Arthur, however, cared little for the crowd. His eyes were entirely focused upon Alfred, who was smiling so brightly the Brit was half afraid he’d be blinded. Even so, he gazed resolutely at Alfred, a grin of his own stretched across his pale face.

Ivan stepped backward and bowed to the crowd. After the cheering had quieted a bit, all of the losing competitors approached the King and Prince Alfred and bowed one by one. Alfred thanked each one for their participation and kissed their cheeks as was customary.

Afterward, Arthur was allowed to approach the King and Prince. Alfred grinned at him, looking absolutely ecstatic. Arthur grinned back before turning to the King and bowing.

“I cannot thank you enough, your majesty.” Arthur said smoothly.

“Congratulations,” said the King in response before gesturing toward his son, permitting Arthur to address him.

Arthur turned and bowed to Alfred. “My sincerest gratitude, your highness, for allowing me to compete in your name.”

“Of course. Congratulations, Arthur!” Alfred said happily, beaming.

“Now, Mr. Kirkland, tell me what it is you wish of me and my son. As I am sure you are aware, certain restrictions to your wish apply, and I hope you have prepared a request which does not violate any conditions.” The King said.

“Yes, your majesty, I believe I have.” Arthur said with a soft smile. “My request is to court your son, his highness Prince Alfred. If he’ll have me, that is.” Arthur said, a bit pink in the face as he looked to Alfred.

The Prince leapt out of his throne, rushing forward and flinging his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. Once more, the crowd burst into unrestrained applause, cheering loudly over the Prince’s display of affection. Arthur laughed and wrapped his arms around Alfred in return.

The King let out a small chuckle. “I believe that’s his way of saying 'yes’, Mr. Kirkland. Your request is granted.”

Alfred pulled back a bit, meeting Arthur’s gaze with his arms still locked around the man’s neck. “I’m so glad you won, Arthur.”

Arthur looked up at him and grinned back. “So am I.”

With that, the Prince tugged Arthur closer, this time to press their lips together.


End file.
